


gnomeo

by nsofties



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Feelings Realization, Friends With Benefits, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Mentioned Kim Jungwoo (NCT), Mentioned NCT Ensemble, Online Friendship, Porn with Feelings, Public Blow Jobs, dumb boys and dumb feelings and lots of laughing, return of The Lubing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsofties/pseuds/nsofties
Summary: “Try me, gnomeo.”“Did you -did you just call me - fuck!”“And, yes, Ididcall you gnomeo.”A follow up towinky face.





	gnomeo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunalius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunalius/gifts).



> I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY.  
> i really just wanted to write johnkun being silly together - i am by no means a master of writing smut.  
> thanks for coming.  
> as i said in the summary, this is a follow up to [winky face](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807895).
> 
> ... i'm so sorry.

Kun leans against the pillar in the airport, scrolling through his phone. He’s half-heartedly reading another tangent from Sicheng on the hellish traffic he had to drive through in order to get home for spring break. There’s roughly thirteen selfies in a row from Sicheng, tracking his slow progress through stand-still traffic. Kun can relate - sort of. The traffic to the airport had been hellish to say the least. Sicheng sends him a photo of a person from the car next to him reading a textbook and Kun pauses. Maybe he can’t relate.

The distant sound of an approaching crowd grabs the attention of both Kun and the people around him, all there to pick up lovers, friends, and family members. Kun assumes that Johnny falls somewhere between lower and friend. He’s seen Johnny - all of Johnny, some parts more than others - enough to pick him out from the crowd. It definitely helps, however, that Johnny towers over most of the people around him.

Johnny’s smile is blinding. Kun ignores the way his heart skips a beat as Johnny dodges the people around him to barrel into Kun, wrapping his arms around him. He reciprocates the hug until Johnny pulls back, goofy smile aimed at him.

“I’m here!”

“You’re here,” says Kun with a smile, digging through his pockets to pull out his keys. “We should get going. It’s pretty late. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Not at all! It’s - it’s only  _ nine _ at night back home for me!”

“Right, well, it’s still eleven here for me,” replies Kun, peering behind him to make sure that Johnny is still following him. Every time they make eye contact, Johnny sends him the largest grin and Kun feels his fucking heart skip a beat. Kun tries not to think about it too much.

He leans against the car as Johnny shoves his suitcase into the trunk of the car, before skipping to the passenger seat and buckling in. He nearly knocks himself out cold on the roof of the car and Kun wants to vomit from laughing too hard. Wiping away tears, Kun shakes his head tiredly before buckling in himself.

“Good to go?” asks Kun, looking over at Johnny.

“Yeah! How far of a drive is it to your university?”

“It’s a bit of a drive. You can plug your phone in with the AUX and choose your music if you want.” Kun pulls out of the parking garage after paying, blindly reaching around before picking up and waving the AUX cord around. Johnny grabs for it and plugs in his phone, scrolling through before settling on a playlist.

“It’s hard being tall,” laments Johnny, leaning back in the chair. “I can’t stretch out on the airplane.”

“What a shame.” Kun’s tone is deadpan as he speaks, unamused. 

“I’m  _ serious _ , Kun. It  _ sucks _ .”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The car ride is, for the most part, filled with laughter and catching up - with Johnny, there’s never empty spaces, awkward silences. Nothing ever feels forced. Being with Johnny is natural and Kun feels at ease as he finally pulls into the familiar parking lot. It’s empty, almost every student home for spring break. Kun, however, sits in his car, laughing at a bad joke Johnny told him.

“Hey, Kun. Does public safety do rounds right now?”

“Huh? Uh, I don’t think so,” says Kun, checking the time on his phone. “No. They did rounds earlier. They’re only on emergency calls now. Why? Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

Johnny reaches down and pulls the lever under the seat, pushing Kun’s chair back as far as possible. Immediately Kun’s mind understands why he asked. The harsh light of the lamps outside his car cast an ominous glow inside and Johnny maneuvers in and out of the shadows until his face is lit up, shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’ve been wanting to see for a while now, you know.”

“Holy shit.”

“I  _ told you _ .” Johnny is pouting - honest to god  _ pouting _ up at Kun as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper cutting through the silence. “You’re okay with this right?”

“More than okay,” breathes out Kun. His hand, as if second nature, reaches up, palm cradling Johnny’s cheek. “Way more than okay.”

His fingers trace the shape of Kun’s cock in his jeans and Kun wishes that Johnny  _ told him _ that this was going to happen - he would’ve worn sweatpants instead. It’s not like he can do anything about it now, anyways, as he helps Johnny pull his pants down lower and -

“I literally live  _ right here _ . Like, up the stairs here. We could walk right up the stairs and you could suck my dick in the comfort of my own apartment.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” 

“Your back not hurting, my car not smelling like sex, yo -  _ oh _ .”

Kun, in his desire to get Johnny out of the car, didn’t notice the darkening expression on the face of his - friend? Lover? - as he continued to ramble. He doesn’t notice much until Johnny’s hand slips past the waistband of his briefs to wrap around his cock.

“R-really just going for it, huh?”

“Like I said - I’ve been wanting to do this for months now. Don’t tell me to stop  _ now _ .”

“I’ll say whatever I fucking -  _ please _ . Jesus  _ Christ _ Johnny, give me a little heads up.”

“And like  _ I  _ said, now where’s the fun in that?” he asks, smiling too innocently for a man who took half of a dick into his mouth just to shut the other person up. “Anyways, that was just a warm up. I fully intend on fucking choking on your dick. I’ve wanted to since I saw it.”

Kun, for all it’s worth, isn’t surprised by Johnny. He thinks he should be, but he doesn’t have time to feel anything, really, other than pleasure when Johnny’s mouth is around his cock. It’s mind numbing and his head falls back and his eyes closed as he lets Johnny do what Johnny wants to do. if Johnny wants to choke on his dick, who is Kun to stop him?

At this point, Kun can’t even imagine stopping Johnny. He’s too focused on the fact that Johnny is giving him the best fucking blowjob in his twenty-two years of existing. It’s not to say that he’s received many - or none, for that fact - but, Johnny is special. And Kun’s brain wants to elaborate on that more - it really, truly, does, but Kun just about loses any capability to form a coherent thought when he feels himself hit the back of Johnny’s throat. Feels Johnny’s cheeks hollow out and throat tighten as he gags.

A twinge of panic surges his hands, previously gripping the sides of his seat for dear life, to rest on Johnny - one on his head and the other on his shoulder. Johnny pulls away and grins at Kun, eyes blown wide.

“I’m fine, baby,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Let me do this.”

Kun still feels nervous, even as Johnny presses a kiss to his cheek that feels a touch too intimate, before wrapping his lips back around Kun’s dick. He keeps one hand, gentle on the back of Johnny’s neck, thumb rubbing back and forth gently as he encourages Johnny around moans and whines with sweet words. Johnny gags - again, fingers gripping Kun’s thighs like a lifeline.

It’s wet - Johnny’s mouth, the layer of spit coating his dick, the sweat building on his brow. Kun watches in mild fascination, through a haze of  _ God-this-is-the-best-head-ever _ as the string of saliva shines in the fluorescent light before breaking as Johnny pulls away again to breath. It all feels oddly peaceful - there’s some slight sense of urgency from the way that Johnny moves, but it feels natural - much too natural, Kun recognizes in the back of his mind, for people who are doing this for the first time. Regardless, Kun relishes in it, closing his eyes.

He’s close - he knows and Johnny knows and he wants Johnny to pull back - tries to convince him to, but he’s coming before he can say anything, Johnny pulling away and swallowing before sending him a shit-eating grin.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m making you tea before we go to bed.”

“That’s all I want.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s a lie.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Johnny’s arms are securely wrapped around Kun’s middle as they watch an episode of It’s Alive together on Kun’s bed. They’re quiet, other than the occasional giggle or interjection from one of them. Kun wonders if it’s okay to feel so comfortable with someone meeting them for the first time. He then remembers that Johnny sends him dick pics in the middle of lectures and realizes that, yeah, in this case, it’s probably fine.

He leans forward, pausing the videos to look at Johnny, who peers up at him with a big grin. “What? What’re you laughing about?”

“Do you have anything important after spring break, Kun?”

“I think class is pretty important,” says Kun with a laugh.

“Because I want to fuck you until you can’t walk for days.”

“Oh.” Kun is breathless. “Okay.”

Johnny laughs, burying his face into Kun’s shoulder. “Okay?”

He smiles and stifles his own laughter. “Yeah. Okay.”

Kun is malleable - weak to Johnny’s touch as he brushes his lips against Kun’s neck. He’s weak to Johnny in general, he thinks, but giggles behind his hand as Johnny shoves his laptop to the side, though not before hitting play on Frank Ocean’s  _ entire discography _ . His giggles turn into a whine as Johnny surges forward to claim Kun’s lips in a kiss. It’s messy and Kun, in the forefront of his mind, hopes he doesn’t have a chipped tooth afterwards. He doesn’t have the money to pay for that. 

They break once - to lift their shirts over their heads, and Kun struggles to kick off his sweatpants until Johnny helps him out. They laugh about that, too. Every moment with Johnny funny, Kun thinks, until he’s sucking hickies into his neck, nipping at the skin, and Kun can’t really think straight, brain going into hyperdrive until he’s pretty sure he could come from Johnny’s lips alone. (Which, he  _ has _ , just not in that way.) Kun doesn’t have control, but he’s not sure he wants it, anyways. Loves the way that Johnny knows his body, even if this is the first time they’ve met.

The lube from…  _ The Lubing _ sits on his bedside table. Johnny had heard the story before, but seeing the bottle of lube in person made him laugh until he was crying, tears streaming down his face as Kun indignantly cried out,  _ Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?! _ Johnny isn’t laughing over it now, clearly glad that Jungwoo had gotten it for him, gag gift origin be damned.

Johnny coaxes him to flip over onto his stomach before grabbing him by the hips to stand him on his knees.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” groans Kun.

“Are you  _ sure _ ?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely positive?”

“ _ Yes _ , Johnny, I am _ absolutely positive _ that I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Johnny snorts, but places soft kisses down Kun’s spine as he reaches for the lube. “I’m just making sure. Consent is key.”

“I am simultaneously impressed and want to knock you the fuck out.” In response, Johnny places a hand, warm, but covered with cold gel, around his dick, forcing a high-pitched groan from Kun’s mouth. “ _ Fucker _ .”

“Don’t be that way, baby. I just wanna make you feel good,” says Johnny, humming as he clicks the bottle closed before placing it back on the bedside table. Kun can hear him rubbing his hands together and is close to opening himself up before Johnny laughs, fingers playing at his rim. “Are you ready baby?”

“God, I can already tell you’re going to kill my fucking bone -  _ fuck _ .”

Johnny is good at a lot of things, Kun has learned over the past forty-eight hours. He’s exceptionally good at annoying Kun, which isn’t anything new. Johnny is also, and this is news to Kun, good at shutting Kun up. Tonight, he shuts Kun up by slowly pressing a finger inside. It hurts - the lube helps, sure, but there’s always some sense of discomfort no matter how many times Kun does this. A hand around his dick helps, though.

“Are you try -  _ fuck _ \- make me -  _ fucking hell _ \- before you -  _ Johnny _ ,  _ please _ . Jesus.” Kun turns his head to rest his other cheek on his bed, closing his eyes as Johnny stretches him. “You have nice -  _ oh _ . Hands. I know I’ve said this. But they’re nice.”

“Your ass is nice,” murmurs Johnny in reply.

“Poetic.”

Johnny throws his head back and laughs as he adds a second finger. “It’s a skill. I  _ cold _ wax poetic about your ass if you’d like me too.”

“Please,  _ don’t _ . For both of our sakes.”

“Well  _ excuse me _ , I think I’d do a wonderful job. The way you open for me is so nice, baby. I could talk about it  _ all day _ .” Johnny scissors his fingers as he talks and Kun isn’t sure whether he should feel embarrassed, turned on, or annoyed. Some combination of the three, he thinks. “I could talk about -”

“ _ Less talking, more fucking _ .”

“Well, in that case, one time at band camp -”

“Oh my  _ God _ , you are going to kill my boner.”

“It’s a special talent I have.”

“I am going to beat the  _ shit _ out of you.”

“Try me, gnomeo.”

“Did you -  _ did you just call me  _ \-  _ fuck! _ ”

Focused on their bickering, Kun doesn’t realize what exactly Johnny is up to until he’s found Kun’s prostate and his legs all but give out from underneath him. The only thing holding him up is Johnny’s other hand that grips him securely - or as securely as a lube-covered hand could. Johnny, Kun realizes, will be the death of him. In more than one way.

“And, yes, I  _ did _ call you gnomeo.”

“You’re fucking sleeping on the - _Johnny_. Fucking _hell_ sto - _hnng_. Stop _doing -_ _oh my God_.”

“I’m adding another finger - can you stop swearing at me?”

“You called me  _ gnomeo _ . I’m gonna fuck you up.”

“Wrong. Who has who’s fingers in who’s ass?” Kun grits his teeth as Johnny slowly adds a third finger. He’s glaring at the wall and can  _ sense _ Johnny’s stupid grin. “Thought so.”

There’s no real sense of urgency - not that Kun can tell, really, as Johnny rubs comforting circles on his hip. No urgency, but Johnny isn’t one to drag things out - never has been, never will be, Kun realizes, as he reaches out and tosses the condom backwards. Johnny frumbles - Kun doesn’t have to see to know as Johnny swears under his breath.

“Wait - I fucking - I put the lube back like an  _ idiot _ .”

“Glad you realize you’re an idiot.”

“Takes one to know one.” Johnny’s body is draped over his again as he leans over to retrieve the final testament to  _ The Lubing _ from the bedside table. Kun takes this moment to clumsily roll onto his back, looking up at Johnny who looks unimpressed with himself.

Snorting, he rolls his eyes. “We’re  _ both _ idiots, Johnny. We’ve known this.”

This time, Johnny toses the lube to the side as he covers the condom in the gel. “Okay, even if this is common knowledge there is  _ no _ reason for us to state it out loud.”

“You are absolutely insufferable.”

“Aw, thanks. I know,” snickers Johnny. “Anyways, it’s gonna  _ hurt _ , so I’m going  _ slow _ . Also, how flexible are you?”

“I’m not all that sure, but I’m willing to push the boundaries of what’s physically possible for your dick, so try me.”

“... I don’t know if that’s hot or concerning. A little bit of both, actually.”

“Maybe it’s kinky.”

“Okay, seriously though. It’s gonna hurt.”

Kun feels the head of Johnny’s cock at his entrance and he pulls a face. “If I cared, I would’ve said so.  _ Please just fuck me _ .”

It’s a slow process - Kun never really dwelled on it that much, but Johnny’s not just  _ long _ \- he’s  _ big _ . Kun’s legs are hooked on Johnny’s arms and he whines as Johnny moves slowly. He watches as beads of sweat begin to form on Johnny’s forehead, rolling down his temple, chin, neck, chest, and he really just wants Johnny to fuck him. Fuck him until he can’t speak. He whines, louder this time, staring up at Johnny who opens his eyes, looking unimpressed.

“This isn’t like ripping off a bandaid, Kun. I have to go slow.”

Kun sighs, not realizing that Johnny is slowly inching his legs up until they’re on his shoulders. He’s not really sure what’s going to be more sore tomorrow morning. His legs, his back, and his ass - probably all three, if he’s honest - are all competitors for the top spot, though he is sure of the feeling that floods his body when Johnny’s hips are pressed against his ass and the taller man breathes a huge sigh of relief.

Johnny is big and it takes Kun a bit to get used to him, fingertips pressed into Johnny’s biceps. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if Johnny works out more than he says he does, the defined muscles of his chest and stomach a testament to a man of discipline.

“Are you okay? Can I move? I really want to fuck you.”

“Sure, but if you talk about band camp again, I’m going to break your dick.”

Johnny guffaws loudly as he pulls out and pushes back in slowly, gauging Kun’s reaction. Kun has no idea what his face looks like, but whatever expression he makes prompts Johnny to increase his speed, brow furrowed in concentration. The noises that Kun lets out are orderline embarrassing and the thanks all higher powers that his dorm is  _ mostly _ empty, making a mental apology to any neighbors that may be present.

Kun doesn’t know what’s happened until he can hear It’s Alive begin to play again off his laptop. Johnny is balls deep -  _ literally _ \- and Frank Ocean is still playing and Kun, quite honestly, wants to die. Dying on Johnny’s dick would be a dream come true. He’s just not sure if he imagined the soundtrack being Brad and Frank Ocean’s voices. Johnny, in typical Johnny fashion, however, just keeps going. Buries his face in Kun’s neck and laughs as he thrusts his hips forward and Kun can barely breathe. He feels  _ good _ \- giddy and sensual and safe.

“I can’t believe we’re fucking to the sound of Brad’s voice and Frank Ocean’s singing. I fucking  _ hate you _ .”

“You’re wrong. You like my dick.”

“Not enough to fuck to this.”

“Then don’t pay attention to it. Pay attention to me.”

“He’s telling me the secrets to a good kombucha!”

“Oh my fucking God.” Whatever other arguments flit through Kun’s mind are forgotten as Johnny’s hand wraps around his dick. “Focus on me for now, baby.”

And Kun does. Focuses his mind on Johnny. It’s not hard - Kun thinks about Johnny more than he cares to admit he does. It’s different  _ experiencing  _ Johnny, however. Johnny inside him, Johnny near him, Johnny around him. He knows he’s close, and he  _ assumes  _ that Johnny’s close, not that it’s the first thing on his mind. Not when Johnny is squeezing his eyes shut, breath in short puffs, and Kun can’t stop staring at him. Can’t stop thinking about how fucking lucky he is, right here, right now.

His eyes are closed as he comes. Johnny’s name is a cliched mantra on his lips as his back arches and his head is thrown back. Johnny follows, not long after, and Kun lets his legs slip from Johnny’s shoulders back down to the bed. Johnny is beautiful - honest to God beautiful. Kun can’t breathe - he was struggling before, but he honest to God cannot breathe when he watches the euphoria wave across Johnny’s face.

They lay side by side for a while until Johnny starts giggling, and Kun laughs along because, with Johnny, he’s happy. Can’t help but giggle like a child when Johnny leans over to press a kiss to his cheek before he disappears into the bathroom, returning shortly after. And then Kun hates it. Kun hates it. Hates the way that Johnny wipes him down with a damp washcloth, hand warm through the cold fabric. Hates the way that he bends down and kisses him gently on the forehead. Hates the way that he wants this, every day.

Well, most of it, anyway. He could go without fucking to an It’s Alive and Frank Ocean mashup again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waking up with Johnny’s arms wrapped around him is something that Kun never really thought he would get to experience. He’s not upset by it; however he is a tad bit upset at the fact that it fucking hurts to move. Johnny’s hand is splayed across his stomach and said man stirs in bed before lifting his head. Kun snorts at Johnny’s terrible fucking bedhead, reaching up with shaky arms to smooth it down.

“Morning,” whispers out Kun, not confident enough in his voice.

“Morning, baby.” Johnny’s morning voice - and, Kun has known this for a long time - is deep and gravelly and something that he could get used to hearing. In a way, he wants to wake up to it every morning. He knows it’s not possible. At least not now. They’ve spoken about it before - in length, actually. How a long distance relationship just… isn’t right for either of them.

Both of them are too affectionate - crave physical contact with their significant other. Kun, after spending a week with Johnny, is absolutely sure the man would wither like a plant without water if he was deprived of physical contact. Which Kun can absolutely relate with. Especially when it comes to Johnny.

Kun realizes he’s a fucking goner when Johnny is fucking into him, nice and slow, and suddenly he’s laughing over some stupid joke Johnny had told him earlier over lunch. They both start laughing as he tries to explain and Johnny collapses on him and they continue like Kun didn’t just re-tell the worst pun Johnny had told all week. Kun realizes he’s a fucking goner when Johnny looks up at him, spit running down his chin, eyes teary, and the man makes a joke about dying on Kun’s cock and they laugh about it until neither of them can breathe.

Truly, though, Kun realizes it when he wakes up beside Johnny. He feels warm and protected and  _ happy _ and this is never the way that Kun expected this to go even though he  _ should have _ . Kun should’ve known he would fall for his six-foot-something best friend, with his goofy smile and his hairbrained schemes. The only man who could entice a laugh from him, from across the country, when his grandmother passed and he felt lost.

Horrified, Kun comes to the startling conclusion that he is in  _ love _ with Johnny Suh. It makes his stomach twist into knots as he looks over at Johnny who smiles, chastely kissing him on the lips before getting up to start making breakfast. The smell of toast and eggs and bacon calls to him as he rolls out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before navigating through his room to the kitchen. Johnny looks out of place there but he  _ doesn’t _ at the same time.

In a weird way, he looks like he fits right in. And he does. He fits perfectly into Kun’s life - has situated himself on a nice plot of land and built a house that now houses Kun’s heart. Kun doesn’t want this to end. Would love for Johnny to stay for forever. Smiles back wholeheartedly as Johnny turns around, frying pan in hand, to ask if Kun wants his eggs over-easy, as always, or if he’s feeling adventurous.

“You decide,” Kun says with a laugh, pulling out a chair and sitting to watch.

It’s their last day together - Kun has an alert set in his phone to remember to drive Johnny to the airport tonight. He doesn’t want to - kind of wants to just delete it and move forward like they have been. But, Sicheng is coming back tomorrow and Johnny has a job out west.

Johnny jokes with Kun a lot - tells him to start applying for jobs out west so they can be closer and,  _ God _ , does Kun want to. And he does - has been. Plenty of positions out there are available, but Kun isn’t sure if he’ll get them. Isn’t sure if he deserves to be close to Johnny.

“Your eggs, my king.” Johnny bows and places Kun’s egg on his plate and he has half a mind to hit him over the head with his fork, but he doesn’t. Instead, he laughs and watches as Johnny returns to the stove top to cook his own eggs.

Mornings with Johnny are nice. They’re nice because Kun is in love with Johnny. They’re nice because they’re something Kun knows he can’t have. He doesn’t let it bog him down, though - instead he enjoys breakfast with Johnny, hand beating on his chest as Johnny’s joke about chickens makes him choke on his toast. 

Kun helps Johnny pack, folding and rolling his clothes neatly, placing them back into his suitcase with care as Johnny looks at him like he holds the entire world in his hands and, maybe, to Johnny, he does, but both of them know that it won’t work out. Or Kun hopes Johnny feels the same. Hopes that this stupid heartbreak isn’t going to be one-sided. 

The ugly feeling doesn’t go away, even after Johnny leaves to go home, unaware of the storm brewing in Kun’s chest.

Kun is in love with Johnny, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Get  _ out of here _ ,” shouts Kun, chasing Johnny out of their kitchen. Johnny’s laughter trails behind him as he escapes upstairs into their bedroom, giggling to himself like a child. Kun stares at the broken yolks of the now-ruined sunny-side-up eggs with a sigh before settling on scrambled for breakfast. He adores Johnny, he truly does. It’s just that sometimes he’s a  _ bit _ of a pain in the ass.

“Dad? What happened now?” asks Renjun from the doorway, stifling a yawn.

“Dad ruined the eggs. As  _ always _ ,” says Donghyuck with a giggle, kicking his feet at the table.

“Of course. Scrambled, then?”

“Scrambled,” sighs Kun.

“Yay! I  _ love _ scrambled!” cheers Chenle as he races into the kitchen. “When’s it going to be ready, dad?”

“Soon. You can sit at the table with Hyuckie if you want.”

Kun listens to his children chatter with one another at the kitchen table as he finishes making breakfast. If you had told him, ten years ago, that he would be standing in the kitchen of a house with a white picket fence, married to the love of his life with three sons, Kun would spit in your general direction and  _ maybe _ even elbow you in the face for good measure.

But, as he turns around to look at his children, and then his husband, standing in the doorway with the fondest, most  _ loving _ smile as he watches their kids, Kun can’t imagine being anywhere else.

“I hate scrambled,” says Renjun suddenly.

“... I’ll make you your own,” sighs Kun.

**Author's Note:**

> i -  
> please go read lunalius' fic.  
> find me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/nsofties)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/nsofties)


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